Page 11 of Hot for Her Italian Mafia

I slip out of my room, and the place is empty. Passing Mom and Dad’s room, I can hear them talking inside. The harsh tones are replaced with sympathetic mewling from Dad while Mom sobs quietly.

“I’m heading out. I’ll see you later,” I shout as if I didn’t hear anything.

“Okay, honey. Have a good night at work,” Dad says. Mom doesn’t reply.

The short walk in the late afternoon sun is pleasant, but it doesn’t do much for my nerves. They tense and pulse with every step carrying me to my destination. The intrusive thought from home returns. What if Luca doesn’t come around?

I’d try to block the thought, but I’d stress about Luca over Dad’s gambling debts any day. At least the fantasy can continue. My mind can play out the insane adventures we’ll go on as the world around me melts into rainbows, butterflies, and all those sweet things they sell in romantic comedies.

I get to the Sailor, and my head shoots to Luca’s booth. It’s occupied, but it isn’t Luca nursing a glass of aged scotch. It’s a young couple cozying up to one another for a late afternoon drink.

Scanning the bar doesn’t yield any solace. The usual Saturday afternoon crowd has shuffled in, enjoying toasted cheese sandwiches and their last pint of whatever before heading home. Smoke floods the room from the tables to the edge of the bar where Oscar sets the last few clean glasses in place for the night shift rush.

But there is no Luca, and without him, my happiness walks straight back out the door I entered.

“Hey, Josie.” He waves at me with a bottle of rum firmly in his grasp. “You ready for tonight?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I muster what little enthusiasm I can without my behemoth watching over me.

“Good, it’s going to be a busy one. Sunken Saturday’s kicking off with a bang. Half-price shots and buy-one-get-one specials are on.”

At least I’ll be running around all night instead of listlessly wondering if I scared Luca off.

CHAPTER 7

Luca

“Tall, thick, green eyes, black hair,” I say into nothingness. “Wouldn’t be easy to spot him in a lineup if he wasn’t so damn tall.”

“Any idea where he operates?” Devin McAllister’s voice blares through my car’s speakers.

Damn, I love the wireless world we live in.

An ex-detective turned dirty private investigator, Devin’s one of my few trusted men. I saw his slow decline from blue-collar, everyman cop to the seedy piece of shit he is now. A soft shove in the right direction was more than adequate to buy his loyalty.

“No, but he’s slinking around the Sunken Sailor pub and surrounding areas.”

“The Sailor? What’ve you been doing around that dump?” Devin snickers. “Don’t tell me that’s the grand expansion you’ve been working on.”

The Grand Expansion, another term coined to leave a legacy behind. Before Josie, it was my most sought-after goal. Like the Egyptians and Aztecs had their pyramids, Palermo Tower would be my tomb, my eternal resting ground. A hotel, casino, luxury accommodation, and more—all under one roof to stand the test of time and weather the oncoming storms.

Percy Bysshe Shelley said it best, Look upon me, ye Mighty, and Despair.

I am Luca Palermo, king of kings…

How long will it take for my shattered visage to mix among the sands of time?

“It’s personal.” I won’t indulge his conversation. He may be my trusted guy, but he’s on the payroll first. “I need you to take care of it. Are you going to do it?”

Devin clears his throat and his lighthearted tone shifts serious. “Sure thing, Don. I’ll get it done.”

I used to do my snooping myself, long after I took my seat of power as head of the Palermo family. The thrill of the hunt is as exhilarating as the execution. But I’ve become preoccupied with another task. Someone far more befitting my time than a damned hotel and casino. Josie, the future mother of my children, the woman who will bring my true legacy into this world.

Far worse, if I go off in some wild search for the prick who jumped her, she won’t have anyone at her side. And I will never allow that to happen again.

“Hospitals in the area might do you good. Backroom doctors too,” I say. The beating he took will have left him with a few serious injuries. Maybe none that would be classed as life-threatening, but medical help would’ve been beneficial.

“What did you do to the poor bastard?” Devin’s giddiness returns as though the tension hadn’t arisen a sentence prior.

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